


Once in the Night

by GreenestApple



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: 2016 Season, Daniel is way too nice, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M, Pining, drunken angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-01
Updated: 2017-06-01
Packaged: 2018-11-07 16:06:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11062422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreenestApple/pseuds/GreenestApple
Summary: Valtteri has been pining over Nico for ages and one night things reach a boiling point.





	Once in the Night

**Author's Note:**

> My first dabble in the world of modern f1 racing, hope you guys like it! This takes place during the 2016 season. Didn't put too much thought into writing this, just wanted to try my hand at it. No offence is meant to the people depicted. So basically Valtteri is just way too smitten, Daniel's playing cupid and Nico is a siren of some sort?? I listened to Sia's Free the Animal (1000 forms of fear is sooo good) a lot while writing this so maybe you guys would like to give it a try too while reading haha

This wasn’t him, not how he’d once been. Had something terrible replaced him, carved out his innards and burrowed inside, he couldn’t remember. The figures swayed and flowed and ebbed, moving away and then back again, pulled by an invisible force and he fell into the same motion, though unable to find joy in it. He shouldn’t be this drunk, not today, not again.

“You alright, mate?” Spoke someone very close to him, more amused than worried, their face a mess of color in the shifting lights.

“Why-“ he stumbled then, something caught under his foot, perhaps broken glass-“do you ask?”

“Oh, no reason, you just look like you’ve seen better days is all,” they said and Valtteri pretended to understand, nodding along as the person laughed, taking a hold of his shoulder.

“Look, maybe you should sit down?” They said, pulling him with them without waiting for an answer and maybe if Valtteri had drunk one less shot, he could’ve fought back, but as it was, he found himself clinging to the person with a desperation he would surely be embarrassed about in the morning. He was thrust into something soft then, completely taken aback by the dead weight of his body, head smacking against somebody’s shoulder, the pain only a distant echo.

“Dan, come one!” The person next to him in the booth exclaimed, pushing Valtteri back into a seated position like a broken doll.

“Sorry, he’s blind drunk,” Daniel replied, squeezing in beside him and now that his aimless flailing had been halted Valtteri could almost physically feel the gears start turning again in his head, which was precisely the thing he’d been avoiding all night. The ghastly claws squeezed around his heart and he bit on his lip, hand wrapping around the nearest drink without another thought as he downed its contents, gaining the surprised attention of his peers; a whole bunch of other drivers gathered around the table.

“Man, do you want to be taken home in an ambulance?” Someone inquired with a boyish voice Valtteri easily recognized and he laughed, a short huff of breath, smacking the glass a tad too hard on the table.

“Aren’t you a child?” Valtteri asked flatly as he turned to face Max, tongue fighting against every syllable of the foreign language, but judging by the look on Max’s face his message had been received.

“Well, he’s got you there,” Daniel snickered to his left.

“Never thought he’d be such a mean drunk,” Max said, leering in his direction and Valtteri could almost feel some semblance of shame, acting the way he was in front of his fellow drivers, but all the feelings he might’ve normally felt in that moment had been bled dry from him some time ago. So maybe he was smirking at Max, looking like a complete asshole as the younger driver rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t have cared less.

“Want me to get you some water, big man, might help you with that attitude of yours?” Daniel teased, ruffling his hair slightly and Valtteri was just about to tell him where he could shove his water as a figure cut through his field of vision, swaying and dancing a beautiful rhythm through the dark mass of people, his silhouette burning a hole in Valtteri’s mind as he stared, transfixed.

“That’s what I thought, don’t move, I’ll be right back,” Daniel said, taking his silence as a yes as he bolted for the bar.

Valtteri cursed aloud, he should’ve been more careful, should never have come here in the first place. Why was he so addicted to this sweet torture? The answer thankfully eluded him as he was in no condition to ponder on it further. Nico moved like it was his last night on earth, his allure was irresistible, a spell that surely even the gods couldn’t fight and Valtteri was only a man. A very drunk, pathetic man who’d seen this game be played dozens of times over, yet it always captured him like a fly in a spider’s net.

Some man’s hands on Nico’s hips, his blonde hair flowing like blown by a breath of unruly sea air as they swayed and rocked against each other, it burned in Valtteri’s throat more bitterly than the strongest alcohol. He’d never come to these places if it wasn’t for Nico inviting him, perhaps they were friends, Valtteri wasn’t sure. He wasn’t the most popular guy around the paddock, not the most easily approachable, but Nico had taken a liking to him for some reason. It was happening more often now that he found himself at a party like this, closer to Nico each time, but never close enough for anything resembling satisfaction. He ached, more and more hollow as these days came and went.

“Here you go, bottoms up!” Daniel had apparently returned, offering him a tall glass of water, but Valtteri didn’t so much as acknowledge his presence, far too charmed by the sight of Nico pushing away from his admirer only to fall into the hands of another one. Endless droves of them that Nico attracted like bees to honey and Valtteri knew he was just one more, he’d drown himself in Nico if he only could.

“Look mate, this is not the way to deal with that,” Daniel suddenly said, giving Valtteri’s shoulder a proper shake and managing to draw his focus back into what was going on around him. He regarded the other driver with glazed over eyes, not sure whether he understood what Daniel was referring to, but as he raised his eyebrows, nodding in the general direction of the dancefloor, Valtteri didn’t know if he wanted to laugh or cry.

“Then what is?” He asked earnestly, beyond the point of denying his fixation and Daniel chuckled, eyeing him good-naturedly.

“I say you need to do something about it,” he said and even though Valtteri knew instantly that this couldn’t end well, a part of him yearned to hear those exact words, needed to hear someone validate this craziness he’d gotten himself into.

“Do what?” He said, eyes drawn back to Nico’s dance, something warm and welcoming blooming in his chest instead of the bleak ache he’d gotten used to.

“First off, I’m drunk,” Daniel said with a bark of laughter, throwing one hand in the air as the other landed on his heart in an odd sort of confession, “but the way I see it, you like Nico and Nico likes you, so don’t make things harder than they need to be.”

“Nico likes me?” Valtteri had to ask, speech slow and slurred as he struggled with the meaning of those words.

“Oh, don’t be silly now, sure he does, he’s been looking this way ever since you sat your drunk ass down,” Daniel continued amidst more laughter, seeming to find the situation abundantly amusing and sure enough, now that Valtteri turned to look at Nico he was met with blue eyes, gaze sharp and full of intent that pooled heavily in the pit of his stomach.

“Maybe he’s just-“ Valtteri began to say, tearing his eyes away from Nico even as every fiber of his being protested, a frown pulling at his face, -“worried?”

Daniel was laughing so hard then that he smacked his hand down on the table, “dude, _I’m_ worried about you, but do I look like I want to shag your brains out, give me a break!”

Valtteri felt flustered, lighter than air in that moment of revelation even with the unhealthy amount of alcohol weighing in his stomach. The thought of it swirled around in his addled mind, could he cross that gap that only moments ago felt inhumanly wide and better yet, should he?

“Okay, up you go,” Daniel announced, apparently having decided on Valtteri’s behalf as he dragged him to his feeble feet and pushed him away from the table like a mother bird sending its youngling into the world for the first time, “tell him I said hi!”

For a moment he simply stood still, trying to see if the sky would crack open and rain fire upon him for even entertaining the thought of what he was about to do. Then, as no divine intervention seemed to take place, he put himself into motion, making his way back to where Daniel had rescued him earlier and beyond the sea of people until he reached the forbidden land, mere feet away from Nico who continued with his tantalizing movements, beckoning him closer. He obliged, heart beating a desperate race as Nico reached for him, hands on his shoulders, fingers lacing behind his neck.

“Come to say good night?” Nico asked, a trace of a smile at the corner of his lips and yes, normally this was the moment when Valtteri went to tell him that oh, it was so late already and he would head back to the hotel, but now he shook his head, hoping very badly that his cheeks weren’t as red as they felt. He slowly placed his hands on Nico’s hips, where many other hands had already laid that evening, fingertips lit aflame with even that small touch and Nico’s mouth parted slightly as they slid closer to each other.

They swayed slowly to the music, Valtteri’s eyes lingering on the curve of Nico’s mouth, but Nico wasn’t smiling anymore, eyes sharp and curious as Valtteri looked up, for a fleeting second terrified that he’d made a mistake. Before he could let the terror paralyze him he leant in, pressing his lips to Nico’s just so, barely touching, yet almost too much to bear. He breathed in the scent of Nico’s perfume, intoxicated beyond belief and as Nico pressed back against him, capturing his lips firmly, the taste of him too sweet to comprehend, Valtteri moaned, afraid he would pass out from the rush of blood below his navel.

He pushed his fingers eagerly underneath the hem of Nico’s shirt, brushing along his ribs and Nico hummed into their kiss, hands cradling either side of Valtteri’s face. It was perhaps the most religious experience Valtteri had ever had in his life. The delicious push and pull of it, lips brushing wetly against one another, tongues meeting tentatively in the middle with trembling breaths and maybe not the gates of heaven, but something was definitely breaking open in his chest, casting celestial light inside. He wanted to fall into Nico, feeling like a tortured thing when he couldn’t get close enough, heart singing with every touch.

Then came a shift, suddenly the hands pulling him closer were shoving him away and he stumbled, dazed and confused, a completely new sort of hurt manifesting at the center of his being as Nico stared him down, out of breath, eyes stormy. He went to say something, but before the words were out of his mouth the palm of Nico’s hand had struck him across his cheek, the sound of it echoing in his ears even over the thundering music. He held his face, staring wide eyed as Nico pressed his fingers to his lips with an unreadable expression, taking slow steps backwards away from him before turning and disappearing in the crowd.

Valtteri wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do, he felt like the ground was opening up to swallow him safely inside, every step laced with lead, gravity working to crush his defeated figure as he dragged it across the dancefloor. He found himself at the bar, ordering three shots of vodka and managing to down two of them, hand still on his bruised cheek, shell-shocked, as an arm appeared around his shoulders, pulling him away from the counter.

“Alright, I’m taking you home,” Daniel said, far less amused this time, able to support Valtteri’s weakened body with his taller frame as they shuffled down the hallways in dead silence. Once they’d made it outside, damp air unpleasantly enveloping their heated skin, Valtteri stumbled away from Daniel’s vice grip and knelt on the side of the road, body violently rejecting all the poison he’d stuffed it with.

“Oh, gross,” said Max, who’d been trailing behind his teammate for the fear of being left alone with the older drivers and Daniel chuckled, giving him a halfhearted smirk.

“Shut up, child.”

“Do you guys-“ Valtteri struggled to speak, falling on his behind on the concrete as he peered up at the other two drivers, “do you have a, what is it,” words eluded him so he arranged his fingers to form a gun, placing it against his head.

“A gun? No, we don’t have a gun Val,” Daniel said, eyes blown wide from shock as he exchanged a look with Max, who seemed more and more nauseous himself, “listen, everything’s gonna be fine, stop being a drunken idiot,” he said, moving to help a visibly disappointed Valtteri up by his elbow.

“Won’t be fine,” he whined, vision swimming too much to focus on anything specific, head a spinning carousel, “Nico hates me, wants me to die,” he tried to explain, swinging around with his free hand and prompting Max to latch on to it, a Red Bull driver on his either side.

“That’s not true, he was definitely kissing you back before, uh, hitting you,” Daniel said, cringing at his own words as he tried frantically to wave down a taxi.

“They were kissing?” Max asked, only somewhat taken aback.

“Shush now, you’re much too young to be talking about such things,” Daniel joked whilst trying to, as gently as he could, place Valtteri in the car that had fortunately stopped in front of them, gaining a smack on his arm for his teasing.

“Do you remember which hotel you’re staying at?” Daniel said, shaking Valtteri slightly when no response came, “Val, the hotel?”

“Lähin oja kelpaa,” he mumbled, swatting Daniel’s arm away, having completely lost his grip on which language he was supposed to be speaking in.

“Alright then,” Daniel said, mostly to himself as he without further discussion got into the passenger seat, motioning for Max to get in the back.

“What, no, I don’t want to sit with him, he’ll throw up on me,” Max protested weakly, though all the while clambering in beside Valtteri who was now sprawled across two seats, head at an awkward angle against the door.

“Nah, I think he’s done for a while,” Daniel surmised, casting a worried glance over Valtteri’s motionless body, “to the Hermitage, please, and sorry about all this,” Daniel turned to speak to the driver, who merely shrugged, saying he’d seen worse. Valtteri welcomed unconsciousness gladly as it pulled him in by his feet, his head the last thing to go under, visions of blonde hair and alluring lips teasing him before turning into nothingness.

*

When Valtteri woke, it was with a start. He gasped for air, disoriented, pushing himself up much faster than his exhausted body could agree to as it fell promptly back on the mattress. Pain pounded in his head with the force of a thunderstorm, leaving him incapacitated, staring blindly up into the ceiling as muddled memories crept like vines back into his consciousness. Oh, oh no, oh no, no, no.

“Do you always hit the bottle as hard?” Valtteri would’ve startled if he’d had the strength to, maneuvering himself slowly to face the source of the voice. Daniel smiled back at him from the other side of the room, turning back to fixing his hair in front of the mirror.

“No,” was all he managed to say, not wanting to open his mouth more than necessary for the fear he might vomit.

“Yeah, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you that drunk,” Daniel continued casually, apparently satisfied with his grooming as he abandoned the mirror to walk to his bedside, plopping down by Valtteri’s feet, “so, I don’t want to freak you out, but we kind of need to be at the paddock soon,” he said, smile waning and turning far more compassionate than Valtteri felt he deserved as his hands flew to cover his face in exasperation and shame, “you know, Thursday, interviews and stuff, nothing too difficult, I’m sure somebody from Williams is already looking for you.”

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, unable to believe the mess he’d been able to create in his own stupidity.

“Oh, no need for that mate, it was all in good fun,” Daniel said, laughing, but even in his weakened state Valtteri could detect the hint of unease in his voice.

“I’ll make this up to you,” he said, moving then to push himself into a seated position, thankful that he was at least clothed under the blanket.

“Just send me some flowers and we’ll be even.” Daniel got up, walking over to the small adjacent kitchen, “something nice, maybe roses, yeah roses will definitely do the trick,” he called out and Valtteri was glad that at least he’d made an idiot out of himself in front of someone with a sense of humor.

“I got you this,” Daniel said as he came back into view, something like orange juice in one hand, “and these,” aspirin in the other and Valtteri managed a small smile, taking the offered items with great gratitude.

“Thank you.” He took the pills, downing the whole glass with shaking hands, feeling slightly more invigorated already.

“Take a shower, wash your teeth, do what you got to do, but I think we should be heading out in fifteen minutes or so,” Daniel said, hovering close by as Valtteri attempted to get to his feet, ashamed of the amount of effort it seemed to take, “and uh, I’m sorry, but I don’t think I have anything to cover that up with,” he said, gesturing shortly at Valtteri’s face before crossing his hands over his chest.

Valtteri shuffled over to the full-body mirror, a dreadful sensation gripping his heart as he inspected the purplish mark covering most of his cheek, the shape of it vaguely resembling a hand print. He graced his fingertips over the bruise, wincing in pain.

“This is bad,” he mumbled, unable to tear his eyes away from the concrete proof that the events he could hazily remember had indeed taken place. He’d kissed Nico. Nico had hit him. Very bad.

“I can barely even make it out,” Daniel quipped in, trying to keep a straight face as Valtteri glared at him through the mirror, “you can always say that we had a little brawl, you know, mano e mano, the tabloids would love it.”

“You’d slap a man in a fight?” Valtteri asked, deadpan.

“Hey, you don’t know how I roll,” Daniel said, laughing freely and alleviating Valtteri’s misery if only by a little.

“I can’t believe this,” Valtteri muttered to himself, unable to comprehend what earthly power had compelled him to act the way he did last night. The whole thing felt like a sickening dream, how he’d been so enchanted, propelled by his heartache to drink himself into a stupor, terrifyingly out of control and Nico had been so beautiful and yet unattainable, the absolute end of him.

“Don’t think too hard on it, you’ll feel better soon,” Daniel said, looking a tad worried and Valtteri nodded, aware that there was nothing to be done about the past.

“Right,” he replied quietly, about to slip into the bathroom as Daniel interrupted him.

“I know you probably don’t want to hear any more advice from me, but what happened with Nico got me thinking,” he paused, weighing his words, far more serious than Valtteri was used to seeing him, “he likes to be in control and you took that away, took him by surprise, I’m sure that’s why he reacted like that,” he gave a tiny nod towards the bruise, corner of his mouth ticking up in sympathy and though Valtteri did appreciate his words, he felt that they had little meaning.

“What I’m saying is that he doesn’t hate you,” Daniel added, pulling Valtteri’s gaze back to himself as he offered a warm smile, “so don’t go moping around out there, I’m sure you’ll kiss and make up soon enough.”

“You’re too kind, I don’t know how to thank you,” Valtteri replied after a moments silence, truly ashamed of the trouble he’d been causing the past hours as well as amazed and thankful for how well Daniel was handling everything.

“Roses man, I’m telling you,” Daniel said without hesitation, bursting into laughter as Valtteri shook his head in disbelief, retreating into the bathroom to see how much of his hangover he could cure with some warm water.

**Author's Note:**

> Not really sure that the drivers go out partying on a wednesday before a race weekend but hey, in my fic they do and have totally awesome adventures. Obviously a second chapter is on its way, haven't yet figured out how i want this to be resolved, so if you have any suggestions i'm totally open to those. Hope you had fun and sorry for all the insect metaphors haha!


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